Eugenia Riley - The Boy Toy

He gently touched her cheek. “I think you know, don’t you, sugar?”

Oh, yes. She knew.

PETE COULDN’T HAVE FELT more thrilled as he and Allison danced away the night—to the Soggy Bottom Boys and the Dixie Chicks, and to anything the band played, even old Hank Williams’s tunes. She felt so wonderful in his arms—warm, soft, curvaceous, and she smelled so sweet. Feeling her shapely bottom move against his hands, Pete was hard-pressed not to haul her even closer and kiss her senseless. After all, she must be willing, or she would have rapped his knuckles long before now.

She was a feisty one, all right. She’d certainly put him through his paces today, and he was pleased as punch that he’d managed to keep her on the hook. In fact, he remained a bit shocked that she’d gone out with him at all, when she’d so obviously assumed he was a hick.

Still, she was coming around. She’d warmed up to him a lot over the course of the evening. The encounter with Gussie had been unfortunate, especially the mention of Mary Lou. But thank heaven his old family friend hadn’t spilled all the beans. For he still had some surprises in store for the spirited Ms. Allison Tracy…

At eleven she stumbled slightly in his arms, and he looked down into her gorgeous, slightly dazed eyes. “Guess I’d best drive you home. You’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“And you haven’t?” she countered.

Pete had to smile. Even slightly tipsy, she was full of spirit. “Two beers at dinner, and sodas ever since. One of us had to remain sober enough to drive us safely home.”

“Yeah. At ninety miles an hour.”

Chuckling, he leaned over to nuzzle her ear, and satisfaction surged in him at the sound of her breathy little sigh. “Now that we know what your little engine can do, we can take our time. My point is, honey, you’ve had three beers.”

“Counting the empty bottles along the road to seduction, are you, cowboy?” she quipped. But he could hear the huskiness of desire in her voice, and passion stormed through him with new intensity.

He paused as Garth Brooks began singing on the jukebox, “To Make You Feel My Love,” one of Pete’s favorite ballads. “One last dance?” he asked her wistfully.

“Sure,” she murmured.

As they slowly stepped about she clung to him as if his arms were the most comfortable place to be in the world, and tenderness filled him. Lord, to have this evening end with him making love to her. That would be more than heaven, a dream come true. Even now she was snuggled up to him so trustingly.

Trust me a bit more, angel, he silently entreated.

A shudder racked Pete. For once he was shocked by the level of his own cravings. He’d picked up this woman earlier almost on a lark; he hadn’t counted on how deeply she would affect him.

“You know, you’ve been pretty nice to me,” she whispered huskily, breaking into his thoughts. “Fixing my car. Buying me dinner. Now driving me home.”

Warmed by her praise, he murmured, “My pleasure, honey.”

“But how will you get home?”

“I have a feeling that won’t be a problem.”

She managed a mock scowl. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” he admitted. “But if there is a problem, I’ll take a cab home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll pay,” she offered in a rush of generosity.

He clutched her tighter, drowning in her scent, pressing his lips to her brow. “Oh, yeah, honey. You will.”

Pete realized that even in her dazed state, Allison knew his comment had nothing to do with carfare.

ON THE WAY HOME, the warmth of the car, the thrum of the engine and the aftereffects of the beer she’d drunk, left Allison with a pleasantly drowsy feeling. She hadn’t realized she was nodding off, until her head slumped onto Pete’s shoulder. Flinching slightly, she sat back up.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he murmured. “Why don’t you just curl up and put your head in my lap?”

That comment thoroughly awakened her. “Hah!” She nodded toward the console. “My midriff would feel just great propped over the gear shift—and where would you like me to put my mouth?”

He hooted a laugh. “Do you really want suggestions?”

“No!”

“Think we need a little more music,” he rejoined. He fumbled at the console. “Didn’t I see Gone in Sixty Seconds here with your other CD’s?”

Allison flipped on a map light and searched for the jewel case. “Gone in Sixty Seconds, eh?”

“Every mechanic in the country must have a copy of that CD. Best car-boosting movie ever made, and best soundtrack.”

She flipped open the case and handed the disk to him. “So you’re not just a C & W junkie?”

“I played Steppenwolf driving out here, didn’t I?”

Allison smiled wistfully. “My aunt Tessa got me hooked on his music when I was little. She was really into the whole Easy Rider, ‘Born to be Wild’ scene.”

“So is her niece,” he quipped.

“Whatever. Anyway, Aunt Tessa always played counterculture music when we were out cruising in her vintage Mustang.”

“Sounds like a cool aunt.” He slipped the CD into the drive.

“Yeah. A lot cooler than her brother—my father. Everyone thinks I inherited my rebellious streak from her.” She gestured toward the CD player. “Hell, my parents would have matching purple cows if they knew I was listening to DMX and Ice Cube.”

He grinned and busied himself adjusting the volume. A silence stretched between them as The Cult began to wail, “Painted on my Heart.” Allison groaned. She’d forgotten that track started out the CD—and it was probably the most torrid love song in Allison’s entire collection. Her audio system was first rate, too. The throbbing lament filled the car’s interior, pulsing with raw power and sexual energy. She squirmed in her seat.

Was the wanton ballad getting to Pete as much as it was to her? She glanced at him covertly. His gaze was fixed on the road, and Allison couldn’t be sure just what he was feeling. But suddenly she just had to touch him; experimentally, she reached out and settled her hand on his warm thigh.

He made a guttural sound, then abruptly pulled the car off the highway, bringing it to a stop in front of a closed gas station, and flipping off the engine.

Startled, she drew back her fingers. “Is something wrong?”

He turned to her, his gaze searing hers in the reflected neon light. His rough fingers reached out to caress her soft cheek. “No, sugar, I’d say something is very right.”

Allison died a little then. For even the steamy music couldn’t match the fervor of the look passing between her and Pete at that moment. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take, wanting him so badly and having him at arm’s length this way. The carnal song only intensified the longing between them, screaming out of dark, secret places, and sweaty bodies locked in passion.

Could he hear her own feelings throbbing on the wavelengths?

Apparently he could as his gaze darkened, smoldered. “Come here,” he rasped.

He didn’t have to beg her. Allison thrust herself into his arms across the console, felt his strength and heat enveloping her. His sigh of yearning mingled with her own. Then he leaned over, his fevered lips teasing her, lingering over her brow, hovering on her cheek, until she thought she would scream if he didn’t kiss her. At last he did—their mouths colliding in scorching need, his tongue slashing deeply inside her mouth.

Allison whimpered and clung to him, seeking his own mouth with her tongue. Oh, he could kiss—kiss as if he were climbing inside her. She was reeling and would have melted away to the floorboards had he not held her. As if he sensed her weakness, he molded her breasts more snugly against him. She moaned and opened her mouth wider, inviting his unabashed possession. Her nipples ached pleasurably against his crushing chest, and when he drew her hand to his crotch she did not flinch, even as the hardness and heat of his sex pressed against her fingertips sent desire shooting inside her, strong and deep. She was trembling, sorely tempted to crawl over the console and take him.